What We Have to Fear
by KCS
Summary: In answer to a request - 'Tiger, Tiger' from Holmes's POV throughout the case.
1. Chapter 1

_**What We Have to Fear

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**A/N:**** This is dedicated to **_Runa93_**, who requested it, and to **_elecktrum_**, who gave me the kick in the pants to get on with it. Hope you like!

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_May 3, 1899_

_12:15 am._

_I have remained so distraught from the horrifying events of this most horrifying day that I believe I am driving my poor fellow-lodger wholly out of his mind. He has finally dropped off to sleep on the couch here in our sitting room, after sternly telling me I have need of a sedative._

_Poor chap, he himself needs it more than I – for reasons of physical pain, rather than mental anguish as my current problem seems to be. I cannot imagine the bruise he is going to be carrying for the next week or two._

_Even now, I shiver at the thought that, had it not been for a piece of random luck and a kind Providence's gift to me, I might be trying to release the grief of death into these pages instead of merely pent-up fear and terror._

_Watson has always said that releasing emotions rather than bottling them up is not only healthier than doing so but also clears the mind incredibly, and I have found it to be true. _

_Where to start?_

_It began two days ago. Watson had coaxed, cajoled, and finally almost dragged me out-of-doors for a walk about London, insisting the weather was much too beautiful to remain inside on such a day. Romantic to the core, my dear Watson certainly is._

_But my annoyance about being forcibly removed from writing my new monograph on the uses of the microscope in criminal investigation soon faded, and I was forced to admit he was quite correct – it was indeed a lovely day. _

_Of course, neither of us knew that the innocence of that spring morning was soon to be shattered for both of us in a violent and quite deadly manner._

_We wandered about for the better part of two hours, and I found, somewhat to my surprise, that I was actually quite happy – content in the company of the one man I had ever allowed close enough to me to be called a friend.  
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_Watson has more remarkable qualities than I give him credit for, and one of them is his gift of understanding. He is actually one of the most intelligent beings I have come across, but his gentle self-effacing manner makes him to be, though quite a stimulating conversationalist in his own right, the one thing every man wants to have in a friend – a perfect listener._

_As a result, I was enjoying myself so much that I did not realize the time until Watson looked at his watch with an exclamation, saying something about needing to be back in time for tea or suffer the wrath of our worthy landlady._

_I laughed – although an incurable romantic, Watson is also most predictable and prosaic at times. Although I seriously doubted that Mrs. Hudson would ever come to the point where she would cease to take care of us, I too did not wish to push my luck further than I already had, and so we turned our steps in the direction of Baker Street._

_We were crossing Oxford Street when Watson made some passing remark about how 'perfectly lovely' the day was. Although I agreed with him in my head, out of habit I started into a friendly argument about romantic imaginings, simply for the sake of conversation._

_Mid-sentence, I heard the too-loud clattering of horses' hooves, and my instincts told me something was dreadfully wrong. Out of the corner of my vision I saw a four-wheeler bearing down upon us with terrible rapidity. _

_The image of the cab that had nearly run me down in the Moriarty case flashed through my mind even as I shouted a warning and hurled myself at Watson, who had not seen the vehicle as of yet._

_I do not believe I have ever tackled a man before, and I was very afraid I had injured my friend, especially when he did not answer my queries right away. The cab blew by us with a great rush of wind as Watson finally shook his head as if to clear it and looked up at me._

_He answered my worried questions in the affirmative and allowed me to help him to his feet, where we both looked at the vehicle now disappearing around the corner._

_"That imbecile! We could both have been killed!" I was furious._

_Watson muttered something about my tackle being worthy of a rugby field, and I smiled at his humor. But then he stumbled, and his grip on my shoulder tightened convulsively. I became very worried – he really looked dreadfully ill._

_I told him as much, and he muttered something about getting a cab. My alarm grew when I heard that his words had started to slur together, and then without warning he just collapsed into my arms, unconscious._

_My first reaction was, I must confess, to being absolutely petrified that he had been hurt in that violent fall to the sidewalk. A man came hurrying up to me just as I gently put Watson on the ground and introduced himself as a doctor. I told him what had happened, and he assured me that it was probably just a concussion._

_We brought Watson back to Baker Street and after examining him, the man pronounced his earlier diagnosis to be correct and warned me sternly to not allow Watson to exert himself for several hours. _

_And then the kind man left, without allowing me to pay him for his trouble, insisting that he might need a favor from Sherlock Holmes someday. I still stand amazed sometimes at humanity – perhaps there is hope for us after all, if people like that still live in this world._

_I sat by Watson's head, watching him anxiously, for the better part of an hour. When finally he opened his eyes and looked at me, such relief filled me that I slumped backward in my chair with a sigh and got out a badly-needed cigarette._

_Hoping Watson could not yet see clearly enough to notice that my hands were shaking, I asked him how he was feeling. He responded slowly, obviously not yet remembering what had happened. I informed him of what the doctor had said, and then he remembered everything and asked after the four-wheeler._

_That, indeed, puzzled me. I have a good many people in this capital that would wish to do me an ill turn, but I seriously doubt any of the small fry would have the time or the means to find out that we were out walking, locate us, and then send a cab after us to run us down. Knifing us in an alley would be more their weapon of choice, at any rate._

_An incident like that one was faintly reminiscent of a more malignant, widespread power. Almost like that of the Napoleon of Crime's organization. The mere whisper of remembrance chilled me to my very core._

_I had no more time to ponder the matter, however, because I heard the front doorbell ring and then without hesitation pounding feet on the stairs and someone shouting an explanation to Mrs. Hudson._

_Then the sitting room door burst open and a man barreled into the room, nearly knocking me down as I had risen to meet him._

_"Hold up, Lestrade," I said, recognizing the sallow, ferret-faced features of the Yarder, now tinged with a deep worry, "What the deuce is the matter, man?"_

_"Mr. Holmes, thank God I got here in time! Doctor, what happened to you?" the man gasped, trying to catch his breath, seeing Watson lying on the couch._

_I explained hastily about the cab in Oxford Street and then fired an impatient question at the man about his unceremonious entrance._

_"I came as soon as I heard the news, Mr. Holmes. I was so afraid he might beat me here!"_

_"Lestrade," I said warningly, beginning to lose what little patience I possess with the official forces, "Who? Out with it!"_

_Lestrade gasped in a deep breath of air, and then he went on. And his next statement sent such a chill through my soul I could almost tangibly feel the air grow cold._

_"Mr. Holmes, Colonel Sebastian Moran escaped from Dartmoor Prison early this morning. He was seen in London just over an hour ago!"

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**TBC! Tell me what you think, Runa93!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**What We Have to Fear**_

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Need I say again that I do not own them?**_

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_May 3, 1899_

_1:00 am._

_As I heard those words from the Scotland Yard official, my entire mind suddenly froze, as if suspended in time. I collapsed, limp as a rag, into the closest chair._

_Moran, loose in London? No! No, no, no! Why he? Why was he not kept in maximum security! How __could__ he have escaped! No!_

_It took none of my famed deductions to perceive why he had escaped._

_And why he had chosen this time of year to do so. The nine-year anniversary of Reichenbach, the five-year of Moran's arrest._

_My frozen mind went racing back to a tiny path above a raging waterfall. Once again I saw the inexorable purpose in Professor Moriarty's eyes as I negotiated the bargain of my life with my greatest enemy._

_Watson's life for Moran's freedom, my friend's safety for his lieutenant's liberty, contingent upon my never returning to London if I survived the death-duel with Moriarty. Such high stakes!_

_I had been doomed to wander the far reaches of the earth as a fugitive because of that bargain. I had broken the agreement upon my return to London – for the purpose of putting that vicious tiger into a cage for good. I had done so._

_But now the tiger was loose upon an unsuspecting city. Upon me. Upon Watson._

_And it was that last thought that turned my stomach, and I felt absolutely ill._

_Watson had by pure accident learnt last winter of the terrible facts surrounding the Moriarty case – how I had bargained, begged, and even fled the country with him to try to protect him from Moriarty's intentions. _

_Moran, the Professor's Chief of Staff, knew of course what his master had realized – that the most painful revenge they could wreak upon me would be to do harm to the one man in the world I could actually say I loved, outside of Mycroft. And for that matter, Watson had truly shown himself 'a friend that sticketh closer than a brother,' and Mycroft I believe was fine with the fact._

_And now I knew that Moran was coming, not after me, but after Watson. And that thought was turning me sick and cold with absolute, undisguised fear._

_"Mr. Holmes? Are you all right, sir?" I heard Lestrade ask, breaking into my morbid thoughts. _

_I jumped in surprise, and looked at the man. He was seated beside Watson, and I suppose he had been telling him of the circumstances surrounding Moran's escape._

_"Yes, Inspector. Pray continue," I said mechanically, not really caring what he had been talking about. What did it matter __how__ he had escaped? The only important thing was that he had. _

_I saw out of the corner of my eye, Watson fixing me with one of those long looks that made me feel as if I were not, indeed, as good at burying all feelings as I thought. But thankfully, he said nothing and turned his attention back to Lestrade._

_I vaguely became aware, a moment later, that Lestrade and Watson had stopped talking, but all I could think about as I stared at the wall was the look of absolute hatred on Moran's face upon his arrest in '94. And his words, uttered with a ferocity that was almost unnatural, kept replaying in my mind like some hideous recording._

'I should have killed both of you when I had the chance, Professor's orders or no Professor's orders! I shall repay my debt someday, you may be sure of it, Holmes! And in the way the Professor originally intended to!' (A/N: See my story _A Man's Home_)

_'In the way the Professor originally intended to. The way the Professor originally intended to.' He was coming after Watson – that was what Moriarty had tried to do in '91 to make me drop the case._

_'I shall repay my debt someday, you may be sure of it, Holmes! And in the way the Professor originally intend –'_

_That voice playing over and over in my head was suddenly interrupted by the Scotland Yarder, who was holding out to me a glass of brandy. Realizing I needed it, I downed it in one sitting._

_I was vaguely aware of Watson's raised eyebrows behind Lestrade, as the policeman turned to look at him. Watson said something I could not hear, and then Lestrade turned back to me._

_"Mr. Holmes, I should like to place a guard round this house, by your leave," he said firmly._

_"No." My response was final, in a tone I hoped left no room for argument. I knew only too well what Moran was capable of, and I could never allow more people to suffer for what he wanted to do._

_"Without your leave, then."_

_Startled by the man's impertinence, I looked at him. "No, Lestrade. This man is on a personal vendetta now. He will stop at nothing, and no one who gets in his way will be safe."_

_Lestrade spluttered. "That's exactly why I want a guard on this house!"_

_"Besides," I pointed out, knowing full well the machinery in the force, "I cannot see the superintendent justifying such an action."_

_Lestrade freely admitted that the man would not authorize a guard, and I thought the matter would drop. But then he told us that he and Gregson were compiling a list of names of men who were willing to take a shift to keep watch over us in their off hours. _

_I was stunned at the news that these officials, whom I took every chance I got to tweak and poke fun at, were willing to go to such lengths to keep Watson and me safe._

_My face must have betrayed the odd emotions I was feeling, for Watson cleared his throat and helpfully broke the uncomfortable silence._

_His remark about criminal escapes making Lestrade and Gregson work together was a quite welcome bit of comic relief that I badly needed just then. I wonder if he really understands me that much, to know when to diffuse my tension and draw me back gently to reality, or if it is just his nature._

_At that juncture, the front doorbell rang. Lestrade turned toward the door, and I saw Watson attempt to get to his feet but fall back with a low moan of pain. _

_Worried, I hurried over to him, telling him to not try to move. His face was taut with tension as he brushed off my concern and ordered me to fetch his revolver from the desk._

_I realized the wisdom in his instinctive actions – my own instincts were at present shot to pieces. How much I desperately needed his stalwart sense just then! I snatched the pistol from the top drawer, snapping the chamber into place. Then I motioned Lestrade to move to my bedroom._

_If the newcomer were Moran, we would be ready for him. _

_In the seconds before the sitting room door opened, I was aware of Watson's rather heavy breathing and the worry on his face as he realized I was alone and unprotected in the middle of the room._

_Dear chap, even though he had to know, with the true facts of the Moriarty case in his possession, that the real danger was to him and not me, his first thoughts were still on my safety. Truly, the man is a far better friend to me than I deserve._

_I wanted to shout at Gregson when he stepped through the doorway, so relieved was I that Moran had not decided on a direct confrontation. But my momentary relief was pushed back when Lestrade came out from the bedroom, making some remark about the portraits of various criminals on my walls._

_I heard Watson laugh at the man's unintentional echo of his own question, put to me several times over the years. I tried desperately to pull myself together, realizing I would be of no use to protecting Watson if I remained in this highly emotional state._

_I mechanically listened to Gregson detailing the list of men who would be guarding my door, slightly impressed with the man's idea of only using men I knew by sight and name at the Yard – that way, if I did not recognize one of the guards, I would know he was in Moran's employ._

_I was endeavoring to try to find words to express my feelings but failing miserably as usual, when I instinctively looked at Watson for help._

_As always, he understood, and despite the pain I knew he was in, he thanked the men quite nicely for their efforts and then the two of them left._

_I breathed a sigh, now that that ordeal was over. I walked over to our windows, remembering VonHerder's unique air-gun of years gone by, and yanked down with a little too much force on the shades._

_Then I stood, shoulders slumped, staring morosely at the shades and wondering what in the world I could do to prevent harm from coming to Watson through Moran's revenge._

_It would do no good to get out of London – if Moriarty could follow us, then Moran could as well. And I had no place to send Watson until the danger was over – I could not let him out of my sight._

_So engrossed was I in my thoughts, that I did not even hear the man get up and walk shakily over to me. When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I started violently._

_"Watson, for heaven's sake!" I gasped._

_"I did not mean to startle you, Holmes. But you simply must stop this brooding!" His eyes were filled with worry as he spoke._

_Then he swayed unsteadily on his feet, and clutched at the desk for support. I instinctively grabbed his arm, and he allowed me to help him back to the couch. Once settled, he looked up at me with an odd look in his eyes._

_"Sit, Holmes," he ordered, pointing to the chair I had occupied earlier._

_I raised my eyebrows at his demanding tone._

_"You heard me!" he exclaimed, and with a small smile I obeyed his order. I sat there, looking at him expectantly, waiting for his tirade about not being so morbid, etc. But his words startled me beyond measure – he really did know me better than I thought._

_"Holmes, I am perfectly able to take care of myself. You have nothing to fear on that point."_

_I shifted uneasily in my chair, and I could tell he knew he had hit home._

_I said something, I do not recall what, and then Watson reminded me of some proverb he heard in the East – _Three people equal one tiger. _And then he reminded me that he knew the true facts and that Moran would have a hard time doing something if we hung together._

_After talking with him, I began to feel slightly better, but I knew it was going to be a very, very long afternoon and evening.

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**TBC, of course - thanks for reading!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**What We Have to Fear**_

Disclaimer: the usual.

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_May 3, 1899_

_2:30 am._

_It is with such a feeling of guilt that I return to this journal. Watson awakened a little while ago in a great amount of pain – how much was evidenced by the fact that he did not even try to protest when I suggested a dose of morphine. _

_I sat beside the couch until his eyes closed once more, but I yet cannot shake off the pictures that come rushing through my mind, replaying this evening's events with horrible clarity. _

_But I will put things down in the order that they occurred._

_Watson dropped into an uneasy sleep after our last interview, and I kept an eye on him from time to time as he tossed fitfully, his features occasionally twisting with bouts of pain._

_I believe I have now worn a hole in the carpet in the area between the door and the window. Nine steps, it takes from the doorway to my desk. Nine there, nine back. How long I paced up and down, I have no idea. _

_My mind was in turmoil, and it was taking the better part of my self-control to get a grip on my raw emotions, swirling around me as they were in a black cloud._

_I halted once more in my pacing, drumming my fingers impatiently on the table as I had done many times during my rambles, and was startled to hear Watson's strained voice behind me._

_"Holmes! If you don't stop that, I shall give you a sedative!"_

_I started, not realizing he was awake. Part of me was glad he had snapped at me, for it probably meant he was feeling somewhat more himself. _

_Mrs. Hudson entered as I turned back to the window, pacing between it and the fireplace. Five steps. Five there, and five back._

_"Will you be requiring anything else, Mr. Holmes?" I barely heard the woman, and it did not register that she was talking to me until I looked round and saw that Watson had taken her out into the hall._

_Poor chap, he spent a good deal of his time apologizing for my actions. _

_I heard him re-enter the room a few minutes later and seat himself slowly at the dinner table._

_"I promised that woman I would make you eat something, Holmes," I heard his slightly irritable tone behind me, "and frankly, I am too tired to argue with you about it. Get over here and sit down, this instant!"_

_His voice of authority surprised me yet again – but I decided it really was not worth the argument and so I sat down with him. I picked half-heartedly at the little he put on my plate, conscious of his doctor's disapproving glare. Then a thought struck me, and I laid my fork down._

_"We need to get that woman out of the way," I said suddenly, referring to Mrs. Hudson. I did not need to be worrying about her as well as Watson getting in Moran's way._

_Watson looked at me somewhat sadly. "For once, Holmes, my deductions were quicker than yours. She leaves this evening for her sister's in Cornwall."_

_Once again, I was astounded at this man's grasp on my wishes. I mechanically thanked him, again resuming my picking at my food._

_Once we had finished, I went back to my pacing, five and nine. Five and nine. Five and nine. Watson picked up the tray of dishes and went to meet Mrs. Hudson._

_A few minutes later, I realized he had not come back to the room, and a dreadful unreasonable fear rose up within me. _

_One of the curses of having an over-active imagination is the fact that it can conjure up the most awful, horrific scenes imaginable. I bolted for the door, trying to shake the images out of my head._

_At the top of the stairs, I saw Watson standing in the doorway, looking outside at the dimly-lit evening landscape. My nerves snapped._

_I remember shouting at him to never stand in the doorway with the hall lamps lit, and he slammed the door with a little more violence than necessary at my brusque tone._

_Could he not think? All it would take would be for one split second his guard to be down, and Moran could have shot him from across the street. _

_It was then that I categorized that gnawing, elusive emotion that had been troubling my consciousness since this affair began – it was terror. _

_I, Sherlock Holmes, who had faced Moriarty, Grimesby Roylott, Culverton Smith, and countless others with absolutely no fear, was absolutely terrified._

_Watson gave me a long look, and I could tell he knew. But he walked past me without a word and went on up to his bedroom._

_I went back into the sitting room and lit my pipe._

_Five and nine. Five and nine. Five and nine.

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**TBC - please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**_What We Have to Fear_**

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Again, I own nothing.

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_May 3, 1899_

_3:30 am._

_I shall not here record my every thought during that most awful of nights, for it would dredge up even more emotions than I am yet feeling because of this sordid drama. _

_It must have been eight o'clock or so when Watson finally came downstairs. I could tell from the dark circles under his eyes that his night's rest had not been much more profitable than my lack thereof._

_We spoke very little that morning, other than that one heated exchange that I very much regret. _

_The deep grief still imminent in his tone as he bristled under my heartless comment about the Moriarty gang's trial, and the accusatory words,_ "I was engaged with something a little more important to me – trying to deal with the death of my dearest friend!" _cut me to the heart, and I felt my already shaky composure falling to pieces right there in front of him._

_He seemed to understand and tactfully ignored my rather uncharacteristic behavior, and after that we spoke not a word until I stopped scraping on my violin when I heard him preparing to leave._

_Our next exchange was without purpose; I knew he would not leave if I ordered him to stay, and he knew that I would never order him to. We were at a stalemate. But I remembered how right he usually is about such matters and finally agreed to accompany him._

_And surely, I reasoned, Moran would not try anything in a public manner. The man probably would only get one shot at us, and he would be sure to bide his time until the perfect opportunity arose._

_Indeed, nothing at all happened throughout the day. I finally began to relax, and my head cleared immensely from those troubling thoughts that had plagued me all night and prevented sleep. _

_After luncheon, as we walked back toward Baker Street, I said as much to Watson. His reply was quite interesting._

_"Fear makes a man do things he would not otherwise," he said to me, "It distorts his judgment and weakens his powers."_

_His tone held no hint of reproach, but I knew it was a gentle but firm lesson, coming from the man who knew me best. I decided to take it to heart – Watson's wisdom still astounds me, even though I have known the man for nearly two decades._

_We reached Baker Street with absolutely no indications of possible danger whatsoever. It was with a slightly easier state of mind that I unlocked our door and entered the hall, followed by Watson. _

_But then I saw something that made my blood run cold once again, destroying the calming effects of the previous hours._

_There was dried mud on our stairs – and it had not been there when we left this morning. Someone, and I knew who that someone was, had been in the house._

_Or was still here._

_I instantly motioned Watson to silence and then pulled him out the door after me into the street. The policemen on guard stated positively that there was no way someone could have got past them, and so that left only one possibility._

_Which Watson voiced before I could._

_"Your bedroom window, Holmes." _

_I agreed with him – I had used it myself on occasion. But it took an extraordinarily active man to accomplish the feat (I should not like to try it now, at my age) and I did not really see the aging, in-prison-condition Colonel managing the task._

_At any rate, we had to search the house. The two constables took the lower floor and the basement, while Watson and I started in his bedroom and worked our way down._

_Other than the dust on my windowsill being disturbed, there was absolutely no sign of an intruder anywhere._

_And that, in itself, was extremely suspicious. _

_My nerves were tying themselves into knots by the time we had finished and dismissed the officials back to their stations outside the door._

_I lit my oldest and most comforting pipe and tried desperately to think lucidly, which was becoming increasingly difficult for me to do. That mud puzzled me deeply, and I voiced my concerns to Watson, who agreed with me that it was very odd._

_Too odd. Something about it gave me a very bad feeling._

_I dimly heard Watson break through my thoughts to tell me he was going upstairs to grab a journal to edit whilst we stayed up the rest of the night. I waved him off and resumed my troubled thoughts._

_The clock striking seven startled me out of my reverie, and I looked round, realizing Watson had not come back down from his room. He was taking a dreadfully long time to find one journal._

_I started up the steps, calling to him, my thoughts still half on the mud on the stairs. In retrospect, I could shoot myself for not focusing upon the matter of real importance. I, a great detective, indeed._

_His bedroom door cracked open, and he called down to me that he had planned to work upstairs for a little while, and that he would be down later._

_In my half-focused mind, the odd fact that Watson rarely did anything in that little bedroom did not even register, something that shall forever haunt me as nearly costing me the life of my dearest friend. _

_As it was, I merely asked him if he wanted a candle. Such a fool I had been!_

_His overly-emphatic "No!" should have been the biggest clue of all – how blind I was to not see that he had a very strong reason for not wanting me upstairs!_

_But I was an errant, stupid fool, and I turned and walked back down the stairs to the sitting room, not realizing I was abandoning Watson to face Colonel Sebastian Moran all alone._

_I had unknowingly signed what very well could have been his death-warrant._

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**To Be Concluded! Please review!**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**What We Have to Fear**_

Again, same disclaimer.

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_May 3, 1899_

_4:10 am._

_Five and nine. Five and nine. Five and –_

_I halted at the window, peering round the shade at the noise I had heard, and I saw Lestrade and Gregson emerging from a carriage. Having nothing better to do, and oddly enough feeling lonely with Watson not present, I hurried down the stairs to meet the Yarders._

_As I went, the thought struck me – perhaps Watson or I had merely left the mud on the stairs on our way out this morning? The disturbed dust could be merely that – a draught could have disturbed it or I could have in my midnight prowlings._

_I let Gregson and Lestrade in and we stood there for a moment talking about the mud on the stairs._

_If only I had known the horrible things that were happening two flights up, in Watson's bedroom!_

_I checked my own footwear by the light of the hall lamp – they were slightly dirty from the morning's excursion but not muddy._

_"I'm going to dash up and check Watson's shoes," I told the officials as we reached the hallway outside the sitting room, "I shall be back momentarily. Have a seat, gentlemen."_

_The two Yarders entered the sitting room as I moved quickly up the stairs, eager to see if the mud had indeed just been a false alarm, and there was naught to worry about._

_That hope was soon very violently dashed to pieces as I flung Watson's bedroom door open in enthusiasm, then stopped short as the awful scene inside met my eyes._

_I shall never, ever forget it as long as I live._

_Even now, I still tremble at the thought – the scenes are burned so vividly into my brain that nothing I can do shall ever dispel them. And I am glad, for perhaps that will make me more careful next time, so that we never have such a close call as this ever again._

_As I opened the door, I saw Watson with his back to me, facing down the very man my thoughts had been centred upon the last twenty-four hours. As the door had opened, Moran was bringing the pistol he held up to point it at Watson's heart, and I saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger._

_The old tiger-hunter hesitated for just a fraction of a second at my unexpected entrance, and for one moment his malicious, baleful eyes met my own horrified ones._

_Then Watson, ever the self-sacrificing man that he is, realized neither of us had a chance and threw himself at the man._

_Moran's attention was distracted from me, and as if in slow motion I saw him sight the gun and fire, directly at Watson's heart._

_And the next few moments, time seemed to stand still for me. Frozen to the spot, terrified out of my wits, I could do absolutely nothing save helplessly stand there, my eyes on the motionless form of my dearest friend lying on the floor as Moran looked up from Watson's still body and glared at me, murderous triumph in his eyes._

_Thank God that Lestrade and Gregson had heard my first shocked outcry when I had first seen Moran and Watson upon my entrance. An instant after Moran had shot Watson, the two of them had rushed up the stairs. Lestrade shoved me out of the line of fire and I heard Gregson shouting something, then the room seemed to be ablaze with explosions._

_Then there was a sickening thud as the second body that night hit the floor. _

_And dead, absolutely dead silence. _

_I fell to my knees beside Watson's body – too frightened to check for a pulse, too afraid to try for fear that I would be crushed by the truth. I could not see any sign of breathing, and I was scared beyond belief. I knew only too well that Moran was one of the best shots in the world of his day, and this – this had been at point-blank range. He hadn't stood a chance in the world._

_I am not much of a praying man, but I was certainly praying then for another chance at this horrible mess I have made of life. All my years I have prided myself on showing no emotion whatsoever – now I wanted desperately just one more chance to do so. Just one._

_I nearly had a heart attack when I heard a familiar voice – rather out of breath and hoarse, but familiar nonetheless – speak my name._

_Starting violently, I looked up through blurred vision – blast those dim lights! or was it tears? – and saw Watson, looking at me with a strange gaze._

_He was alive, at least. How, it was a miracle. One that I was not going to let slip by me._

_"Watson? Lie still, old chap. Lestrade, call Sir Leslie Oakshott, immediately!" I said, my shaking voice sharp with intense worry and fear._

_"No, Holmes," he said, still gasping slightly._

_"Don't try to talk, Watson!"_

_"Will you keep quiet for a minute?" he asked, his tone one of extreme exasperation. I then began to notice something odd – he was gasping as if out of breath, not as if he were in shock. _

_He rolled over onto his elbow and drew something from his inside coat pocket with a hand that was scarce steadier than my own._

_It was one of his confounded journals, in which he was always writing up some case or other. As I took the book from him, he sat up a little shakily and moved closer to me._

_"I'm all right, Holmes," he said quietly, his matter-of-fact voice oddly calming me. _

_I touched the spot where the bullet had imbedded itself in the leather-backed volume with a hand that might have been palsied, it was still shaking so badly. Then I stuffed the book away into my own pocket, breathing a silent prayer of deep gratitude to the God that was good enough to give me a second chance._

_"I shall never again twit you about your scribblings, Watson," I whispered at long last, finally looking him in the eyes for the first time. _

_His mouth turned upward in a small but shaky grin, and he allowed me to help him to his feet._

_He swayed unsteadily, and I caught his arm as he flinched with the pain – he was certainly going to be in a good deal of it from a bruise of that size. _

_I asked him once more if he was sure he was all right, and he replied with another firm yes, trying to get my fractured nerves to settle down somewhat._

_Behind us, I heard Inspector Lestrade clear his throat self-consciously. I colored slightly at the knowledge that I had lost every shred of composure, and in front of two Scotland Yard inspectors, to boot!_

_Watson again sensed my discomfort and performed the duties of thanking the men for rescuing us from the clutches of that fiend now lying dead on the floor of the bedroom._

_Lestrade expressed his gratitude that they had arrived in time. I followed Watson's gaze as he spoke, down to the man lying on the floor, and I felt him shudder with loathing as he looked at the man that had almost killed him._

_I tightened my grip on his arm, and he looked at me gratefully, saying nothing. _

_He has not yet told me of what took place during that interview, those twenty minutes he spent facing Colonel Moran all alone in his little bedroom. And I somehow doubt that he ever will. I can only use my imagination as to what took place, and I rather think I do not wish to know. I shall have nightmares enough over this evening's events._

_I am thinking that Watson and I need to get away for a week or two, perhaps somewhere in the country, where we can relax and heal – he physically, and I mentally, from the horrors we were subjected to last night. I shall bring the idea to his attention first thing tomorrow._

_This morning, rather, since it is nearly morning now._

_As I sit here, writing out my thoughts of this dreadful tale, I can slowly feel the absolute lack of control I had starting to dissipate, and I feel somewhat better now. The main thing I had to fear in this life has now been removed from the world, for good – Moran will never have the chance to harm Watson again. I am beginning to return to my normal self, very slowly._

_I look over at my friend, sleeping peacefully now at last, on the couch. He had no desire to sleep in that bedroom tonight, and I full well know why. Someday, perhaps, we shall forget the horrors of the evening._

_But for now, I know it to be necessary that I remember these events vividly and poignantly. _

_Providence has given me another chance at life, life with the only person in the world I actually can name a friend, and I swear before God I shall not take this gift lightly. _

_SH

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**Finis! Please review - thanks for reading!**


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